


Don't tell me what to do (5/5)

by In_Arcadia_IO



Series: Don't tell me what to do [5]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: LOTR RPF - Freeform, LoTR RPS - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:44:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Arcadia_IO/pseuds/In_Arcadia_IO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>How it all began. Way back in New Zealand filming The Fellowship of the Ring.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't tell me what to do (5/5)

Viggo felt completely disoriented for a few seconds. Dizzy. Even now there was a pattern of tingling sensations on his skin, fading away little by little. Warmth snaked through his body like a sly languid lizard, releasing him only slowly as he came to his senses again. The sweat-soaked t-shirt felt damp on him. At first, he wasn't sure whether he was truly awake this time. That dream, even waking up in the dream had seemed so real!

Dazed, he stared up at the ceiling where the sunlight coming through the roller blinds had created fantastic lopsided patterns. It was quiet in the house. Outside, the birch branches were slightly stirring in the breeze, making silvery scraping sounds against the walls. Through the half-opened windows he could hear the distant echo of the waves rolling in from the sea.

Viggo took a deep breath and sat up on the couch, fishing for the blanket that at some point had landed on the floor.

Don't think about it! Don't even try!

Why not?

Because having fantasies about someone is one thing …

What's so bad about having fantasies?

Very simple. They're not real.

True. I want more than that.

Viggo looked up, completely absorbed in watching the tiny dust particles dancing in the air. His glance fell on the picture frames arranged on one of the shelves. Henry. Exene.

Do I really want more?

Viggo shook his head, trying to organize his thoughts, his feelings. It was as if he held an imaginary woollen ball in his hands, the sum of his unexplained relationship to Orlando, an intricate cluster of what-ifs that he found impossible to disentangle. At least for the moment.

He decided on having a shower first and then perhaps some coffee. Going back to sleep on that horrid couch was completely out of question. And his own bed would surely be occupied for a little while longer. Judging from Orlando's condition the night before it was hardly likely the young man would awake soon.

So first shower, then coffee. And then?

Viggo was at a loss. The way Orlando had acted the afternoon before, the fury in his eyes while they were fighting, his accusations before he had stormed off into the woods, all this demonstrated only too well that his cast-mate was by no means indifferent to him. The same evening, however, Orlando had thought nothing of picking up another guy at a bar.

Did that mean Orlando had a habit of changing his mind more quickly than his eye-colour when he changed back from elf to man in the evenings? Or were these two sides of the same coin? What would have happened if he hadn't found Orlando the night before? In whose bed Orlando would have woken up then?

Viggo groaned and rubbed his forehead. All this was too much for a Sunday morning. So first shower. Then coffee. And then wait and see.

While the warm water was raining down on him the surreal atmosphere of the dream returned. Orlando's lips. That firm slender body under him taut like a bow string when Orlando had arched up to meet Viggo's body. Tiny drops of sweat along the curve of Orlando's upper lip. The press of Orlando's fingers at the small of Viggo's back ...

When Orlando climaxed his eyes had been closed. There was a tiny, sharp pang of regret when Viggo thought about it: dream-Orlando's mystery would never be revealed.

Viggo wished the shower would rinse away the memories of that dream. But it only made everything worse. The warm water coming down him reminded him too much of Orlando's hands. Touching him. Caressing him.

Viggo leaned against the wall of the shower cabin and let the water stream onto his face. Into his mouth. Down his shoulders. His eyes were closed. Over the sounds of the water splashing on the floor tiles he remembered dream-Orlando's harsh gasps when Viggo had thrust into him.

All of a sudden, he didn't feel like coffee at all any more. He'd rather walk into the bedroom, no matter if Orlando was still asleep. Or perhaps even better if he was. This time, there would be no more idle discussions, no turning back. He'd tear the remaining clothes off Orlando and just fuck him.

Madness!

Viggo turned the water to ice cold.

Coffee. Yes.

Stepping from the shower he flung a towel around his hips. Normally, Viggo didn't care about things like that, but since he was not alone he figured walking around in the house naked would be … what? An invitation? An irritation? In any case, misleading.

On the way to the kitchen he passed the bedroom.

The door was partly open.

Open for you! the voice in his head whispered. No way! the other voice shot back.

Silently, Viggo pulled the door closed, his fingers clinging to the handle. He hesitated. And then he couldn't help but push the door open again and peek inside.

There was Orlando in Viggo's bed, lying on his stomach with his head buried somewhere under the pillows. Viggo stepped in without making a sound - ha, like a ranger, he mused ironically- but actually not as silently as he had imagined for at that moment Orlando stirred in his sleep and turned over.

It was that movement that decided everything, even if Viggo didn't know it then. That small movement split his life into before and after.

In the morning light Orlando's face looked ashen. There were shadows under his eyes. Normally, Orlando's features were never static, motionless. In a way that uncharacteristic stillness made him look so vulnerable. And impossibly young.

Viggo couldn't understand why, all of sudden, his heart was beating madly and why he found it hard to breathe. He remembered what the others had told him about bungee jumping. No, he had never tried it himself, but he thought that it must be just like this. As if he was standing there, at the railing of some bridge out in the wilderness, with the abyss below him.

Viggo held his breath and imagined how it must be to spring into the void.

Approaching the bed he accidentally hit a pile of books on one of the tables next to the door. They fell to the floor noisily. All at once, Orlando's eyes snapped open. With one hand he shaded his eyes, blinking sleepily.

"Viggo? What are you doing in my bedroom? Wearing … ummm … only a towel …"

Viggo raised an eyebrow.

"Your bedroom?"

Orlando tried to lift his head a little, but fell back into the pillows almost instantly.

"Oh, bollocks. No!"

Viggo had to grin.

"Is it still so bad?"

"Worse than bad. But … I remember only … vaguely last night. There was this guy. And then there was you. And then … what was then?"

"You were so drunk that I had a hard time getting you in my car. And then you fell asleep on the spot."

"Ummm, perfect." Orlando snorted. "I hope you appreciated witnessing the spectacle of the cast slut live and in full action."

"Well, it's not exactly something to be proud of. Letting a stranger give you a blow job Is this how you normally spend your evenings?"

Orlando's propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes narrowed.

"What if I did? It's none of your business."

"No, of course not. But …"

"But what?"

Viggo sat down on the bed. He looked at Orlando for a long time. Opened his mouth and closed it again. "Look …"

"Ah, Vig," Orlando cut him short impatiently. "Save your explanations. I'm not in the mood for a talk right now".

"No. I do owe you an explanation, " Viggo heard himself say, to his own surprise, returning Orlando's sceptical look unwaveringly. "But how can I explain something to you I hardly understand myself?"

Orlando shook his head slightly. "Let's leave it at that. I'm grateful you brought me home last night, really. But you don't owe me any explanations. And I don't owe you any either ."

"It's not that I don't care about you …" Viggo started again.

"Yeah, that comes across perfectly. All the time, you're so calm and cool and arrogant. Not one unnecessary word."

"I didn't want to raise your hopes or give you a false impression …"

"Then why did you kiss me that night? And all those looks you were giving me when you thought nobody would notice. You still look at me that way. But not one word. What am I to make of that?"

"Orlando, you have no idea. No idea of … how much I want you. But I know it wouldn't work. And you deserve better than being a cheap fuck."

Orlando winced imperceptibly. "So that's what you think of me then. A cheap fuck. Easy to get. Brilliant! I have no idea why I'm having this conversation at all. I should be leaving." He sat up and began to get out of the bed.

Viggo moved up closer to him and took him by the shoulders. "No. That's not what I think of you. I don't want to believe you're a slut, although you try your best to act like one. And that's exactly what scares me."

"Scares you? You're scared? That's stupid."

"I have no idea where this might lead, that's what scares me. And I don't want to start this all over again. Falling in love. Falling out of it. I can't promise you anything. And I won't."

"God, Vig. What do you think I'm expecting from you? Vows and a wedding ring? We hardly know each other. I have no idea either whether it'd work out. But what if it only lasts for a few weeks? I'm sure it would still be worth it."

Viggo smiled involuntarily. That sudden spark of enthusiasm in Orlando's eyes was contagious. Unsettlingly contagious.

"I'm not like you," he replied calmly. "I don't run into things just like that."

Orlando rolled his eyes and made a face. "You're such a control freak, you know. But life's not like film-making There are no stand-ins, no rehearsals. Normally, you just get one take and that's it. Life consists of making mistakes."

Viggo chuckled, punching Orlando's shoulder gently. "As if I didn't know that, you smug precocious boy. The list of mistakes I've made in my life so far is long enough already."

"So …?" Orlando's voice had become unexpectedly soft and he seemed to be having a hard time biting back a wicked grin.

"So? What?"

"Would it kill you to make another mistake?" Suddenly, Orlando's face was very close to his own. Viggo could feel Orlando's breath against his neck, on his shoulders, and hell, he felt goose bumps rising on his bare arms.

"You're cold, Vig. No wonder. In that outfit."

"Didn't want to wake you up to get fresh clothes. All my stuff's in that wardrobe over there …"

"You don't say? How attentive of you. … Hmmm, I quite like you dressed like that." He looked Viggo up and down appreciatively, beaming like a Cheshire cat, "… - or should I say undressed? It suits you."

"You're impossible, you know. And you think you're irresistible, don't you?"

"I _am_." Orlando stretched comfortably and laughed that silky laugh Viggo remembered so well from the dream. So it existed in reality, too, Viggo noticed in amazement. And at that moment he knew that things had suddenly changed. That everything was different now …

Slowly, Orlando reached out and wiped away some drops of water that had run down the side of Viggo's face.

"Your hair's all wet." Orlando remarked, licking the moisture from his middle finger, very slowly, his eyes fixing Viggo's. Viggo watched, entranced, drowning in those deep brown pools. He took a deep breath. If Orlando went on like this, there would be no turning back …

"I needed a shower after the night on that horrible couch in the living room." Viggo looked away, trying to change the subject. One last attempt to escape. "Ahem, what about breakfast?"

"Huh, breakfast. I'm not sure whether solid food would be good for my stomach yet. If you don't mind, I'd like to sleep a little longer. It's Sunday. I've no plans for today. He gestured with his hands. "… and my head's still about that size."

"Sure. Sleep off your hangover." Viggo was about to get up, but Orlando stopped him.

"I don't want to sleep alone."

"You never give up, don't you?"

"Promise. I'll leave you in peace, old man. Perhaps snuggle up to you. But only just a little. And you said yourself you couldn't sleep on that horrid couch."

"Oh, but I slept. I even dreamed. You'd be surprised if I told you about my dreams."

"Come on, Vig. Get in and tell me about your dreams. I'm sure they were surreal."

"Surreal? Don't know. I found them very real."

"So what are you waiting for?" Orlando lifted the sheets and patted the space next to him.

"OK. You asked for it. Don't tell me afterwards I didn't warn you."

"Yeah, you warned me. But one thing …"

"What?"

"This towel has to go."

"That's not fair. I'll be freezing then."

"You won't be cold. I'll keep you warm. I'll guarantee it."

Viggo sighed. What was left of his good intentions now? Maybe this was a mistake, but what the hell, how could he be sure if he didn't try? And in the end, what was better? Making mistakes or eternally regretting not having made them?

He held Orlando's glance and made a little show of slowly getting rid of the towel. Orlando smiled like a sphinx. As if to say "told you so" or "we could have had that all along."

Shaking his head in fake despair, Viggo smiled back and then started to crawl on all fours over the blanket, cornering Orlando under him. "Irresistible. You smug little bastard. I'll show you irresistible."

Framing the boy's head with his hands, he kissed the smiles from Orlando's lips. "Shall I tell you about my dream?"

"Yeah, tell me about your dreams. Tell me bedtime stories and poetry. But first tell me something else. What was that nonsense yesterday about the pierced heart?"

"That was no nonsense." Viggo closed his hand around Orlando's fingers and guided them to the spot above his heart. "It's true. Can't you feel it?"

"No, I can't," Orlando answered huskily, drawing Viggo down onto him. "I feel other things instead … but I wish the bed would stop spinning so madly."

"Ah, you drunken elf! I can see I'll have to be merciful this time. But mind you, only _this_ time. Lie still." Straddling the younger man, Viggo quickly pulled Orlando's t-shirt over his head. "Don't move."

He kissed Orlando on the mouth once more before his hands and lips began their explicit quest down Orlando's body, kissing, licking, pinching the younger man's nipples playfully. Orlando winced.

"I said don't move," Viggo admonished him. "Or the bed will start spinning again."

Orlando wriggled like an eel under him seeking more body contact, or at least trying to, but Viggo held him down firmly.

"I'm not sure," Orlando moaned, when Viggo kissed his way further downwards, down to the waistband of Orlando's boxers. They were soon gone, too. "… whether this is the right way to stop my head from spinning, but …don't stop …don't …"

He became fully incoherent when Viggo's tongue began teasing his cock, circling it expertly, sucking on it before he swallowed the length of him. And Viggo's hands were upon him … everywhere.

Viggo himself was achingly hard meanwhile, but he knew he could wait. First, he wanted to kiss and taste and drink up Orlando. He couldn't get enough. Couldn't get enough of Orlando pumping into his mouth, the thick soft flesh brushing against his lips, faster, more and more frantically. Lips. Hands. Legs. It all became a blur. Orlando's hands were buried in Viggo's hair, urging him on, while he was chanting, between ragged breaths, some broken syllables, like the fragments of an obscene prayer mixed with Viggo's name. And finally a salty gush, when Orlando came in his mouth and Viggo swallowed. And swallowed.

Viggo lay for a while, with his head resting on Orlando's hipbone, and his hands on Orlando's chest and thigh, very still now, listening as Orlando's breathing slowed down again and finally went back to normal. He smiled. This had not been so bad for a start even if he would have to wait a little longer for his part of the fun. He didn't mind. For Orlando wide awake, that he was sure, would even be more fun. Oh, and Orlando was young, he'd recover soon and then …

Viggo looked up.

"You're better now? Your head's still spinning?"

"Worse than ever," Orlando said, with a dazed smile. "But I'm loving every second of it."

"You crazy boy. Come here." Viggo moved up again and kissed Orlando's eyelids, his cheeks, his mouth. As if they had a will of their own, their legs and arms wrapped around each other again. Warm. And so at ease. Their bodies seemed to fit perfectly against one another, Viggo spooned up to Orlando, their hands entwined.

Orlando was breathing very quietly now; he was probably dozing already. And Viggo realized he was sleepy, too. His limbs were warm and heavy, and his lips tasted of Orlando.

Maybe this was only a dream as well, he thought, hovering on the brink of sleep. Maybe. But if it was, he hoped he'd never wake up again.

 

The End


End file.
